


Tense and Release

by redrapideyes



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst, Body Horror, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, a lil bit at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrapideyes/pseuds/redrapideyes
Summary: doyoung gets hanahaki disease surgery
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Kudos: 54





	Tense and Release

**Author's Note:**

> i was reading about hanahaki disease and was wondering what happened after the surgery, so i wrote this

Doyoung made it through the nurse’s intake questions up to “How would you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” when suddenly, all that he had held in spilled onto the floor in bright red and orange petals. The flowers, deep in their hue, contrasted against the white of the linoleum floor that was slowly fading, fading. 

The details of late-stage Hanahaki Disease are not well known as the disease itself is too rare. Regardless, they weren’t hard to imagine. The symptoms begin near the victim’s respiratory system. Roots creep alongside capillaries, reaching around the lungs and heart, where eventually they pierce through the fragile muscle and flowers begin to bloom. What kind of flower varied, daisies or roses, maybe pansies, orchids, or what looked to be such. Their petals grow and shed, grow and shed, as the tiny garden ravages the victim’s insides. The natural outcome would be suffocation or organ failure if not properly treated.

Imagination, however, could not possibly describe the feeling of plant gripping and squeezing vital organs, pulling life from the bloodstream, air from lungs. When Doyoung woke up on the hospital’s stretcher being rushed to the operating room, he could feel vines moving just under his skin. The disease wrapped itself around his ribcage and left sore protrusions that caused the nurses to gasp as they removed his shirt. He was being crushed, each breath, each heartbeat a reminder of the disease taught at his center. Despite his instincts, he gritted his teeth to keep from setting off another coughing spell. What air he could pull in was too precious, but it was not enough to combat the sheer fullness of his lungs. Reprieve. He was searching for any sign of reprieve as the surgical assistants kept him from thrashing. 

The hospital workers reached the OR and ran through the doors. Despite their carefulness, the motion proved too strong as thorns punctured Doyoung’s skin, blood quickly pooling on his stomach and sides. That sudden sharpness proved too much, and he lost consciousness for the second time.  
—  
Doyoung opened his eyes to the color white and he thought for a moment he might have been dead. _What a stupid way to go._ He winced, rolling his drowsy eyes.

His suspicions were proven false as the sound of hospital machinery reached his ears. A cardiac monitor, an oxygen machine, an IV drip leaking whatever medicine was keeping him currently in this sleepy haze. At this amount he should probably be thankful, he figured. Whatever pain it was combatting must have been worth the dosage.

Pain. Doyoung took a moment to inhale as deep as he could manage, an act that alerted the nearby nurses.  
“Hello, Mr. Kim. How are you feeling?” One asked.

Doyoung mumbled a response he was sure only sounded like a groan. He meant to say he felt fine. Tired, but fine, which was the keyword. 

After he grew more aware of his surroundings, a doctor and what seemed to be a hospital intern entered the room to explain what happened. The doctor asked if he had heard of his disease, which he hadn’t before showing symptoms and did his own research. Doyoung offered a nod in place of a proper response.

The doctor stated how lucky he had been given how far the disease had progressed. However, once she managed to remove what they believed was the source, a large pink peony rooted just behind his ribs, the rest of the plant seemed to melt away, making the procedure much simpler than expected. The surgeons had never seen anything like it, his disease or the way the symptoms simply vanished. 

_So simple?_ Doyoung adjusted his position. It was almost funny.

He was expected to make a full recovery, discharged in as soon as two weeks. They had more questions but would ask them when he was ready.

Shortly after, Doyoung was left alone. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, easily. He’d forgotten the feeling.

How could he let it get so bad? He should have visited the hospital as soon as he coughed up those two pink petals onto the breakroom floor. Did he really think that it would just go away? He should have known it didn’t work like that. At least he could breathe easy now, after everything. Despite it all, he could breathe easy now.  
—  
Three weeks later, Doyoung was crouched between bookshelves. He was warned against rigorous movement and, although his job never required much movement in the first place, the other library workers insisted he only shelve the lightest books and worked away from high foot traffic. 

A conversation before his discharge kept replaying in his mind. “Old diseases like these, it’s hard to find a proper cause that’s relevant to modern medicine.” The curious nurse spoke while rewrapping his bandages. “Doctors from back then would say things like hot blood or, say, humors since they worked with a much different perspective than we have now. But your condition, something like flowers in the body, in your lungs. It’s easy to see how that seems like magic.”

She moved to the IV to check whether it needed to be refilled. “Do you know the reason they gave for it?”

Doyoung had. “Unrequited love.” He spoke quietly, enough to make the nurse take notice.

He still remembered her hesitation before her next response. “That’s what they say.”

Back to reality, Doyoung scanned the numbers on the side of the book in his hand. It matched up with the books on the shelf enough to find the proper gap with just a glance. It struck him momentarily how much this section of the library smelled like old paper. The books weren’t necessarily old. There were just so many in the building, a sizable collection that made that paper smell permeating. He didn’t know he missed it, breathing slowly in the quiet.

“There you are!” A voice rang from the end of the stack. It was low and smooth, warm like the coffee the owner always had on hand. Doyoung knew that voice. 

He turned to the smiling face partially obscured by a baseball cap. “Hey Johnny.”

“I heard you were in the hospital.” Johnny took a position leaning on the bookshelf and putting one hand in his pocket. It was familiar.

“Yeah.” Doyoung’s eyes flitted to the ground, and he went back to work checking numbers and placing books in their proper  
gaps. “I had to have surgery.” The words felt careful, as if they were spoken one by one rather than as a sentence.

“What? No way.” 

“I’m okay, though.”

Doyoung surprised himself with the curtness of his answer, but the other option was to let Johnny worry over nothing, an issue over and done with. 

A pause. “Well, you must have a cool scar now, huh?” Johnny laughed, that cheery timbre.

It was Doyoung’s turn to pause. He bit the inside of his lips as Johnny’s laughter faded into something of a sigh. He searched for a response, but none came. Instead, he just listened to the loud ticking on Johnny’s wristwatch. Was it always so loud?  
A quiet chirp came from Johnny’s pocket and he pulled out his phone. He sighed a second time, then spoke. “I’ll leave you be, then.” Before he turned away, he reached out to mess up Doyoung’s hair and promised to see him later.

Doyoung jumped at the sudden contact. The last time Johnny had done that, Doyoung thought he would collapse from the pain, if it didn’t just kill him. He had to excuse himself to find a waste bin to hack hot pink flower petals into. The aching in his chest was reaching its maximum, the deep color of the flowers looking more and more like blood. He remembered staying hunched over, gripping at his shirt and struggling to catch his breath, until he heard someone else enter the room and forced himself to pull it together.

Now, he felt nothing. He heard Johnny’s voice and felt nothing. He saw his face, his grin, and felt nothing. He, no matter how briefly, touched his skin, heard his laugh, and the emptiness persisted. 

He tried to distract himself, finishing out the bottom row and then standing up to find the correct place for the next book he held in his hand.

The first time Doyoung choked on petals, Johnny was keeping him company after the library had closed. It was just the two of them and Johnny said that he liked talking to Doyoung, which Doyoung agreed with, followed by the slow realization that the growing affection he had for the other went outside friendship. But that friendship was precious, so he chose to ignore the realization and hide it when it became simple fact. A little heartache was worth maintaining that uncomplicated happy place. 

Even as he lay suffering, there was happiness in his love.

But to feel nothing. The thought crossed his mind that this might be worse.

This emptiness was saving his life, he knew. He could return to life as usual without the pain or the smell of roses everywhere. But this nothing. This void. Being able to firmly say _I don’t love you anymore Johnny Suh._

_I don’t love you anymore Johnny Suh._

Doyoung finished clearing his cart and began wheeling it back to the elevator. He hit the call button and waited, breathing easily.


End file.
